


Yours Alone

by MediumSizedEvil



Series: Yes Mistress [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Jake Peralta, F/M, Femdom, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 11:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18622552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumSizedEvil/pseuds/MediumSizedEvil
Summary: "I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to."Jake returns home to his Mistress after a watershed moment, and they both need reassurance.





	Yours Alone

Amy had not come to the airport because she didn't trust herself not to make a scene in public. She waited for him at home, by herself, after dropping Rosie off at Kevin and Ray's. She nervously tapped her finger on the armrest of her chair. His plane had landed, he was on his way now.

Safe and discrete, they had agreed. Not in New York. And then the perfect opportunity had presented itself; a short training course on Profiling in Seattle ('it's full of gays') which he would be attending alone. They had agreed on how he would find someone, what he would and would not do, and discussed a whole host of what-if scenarios that ranged from the possible to the absurd (as many things with Jake did).

Her whole marriage to Jake had been a journey, in which she learned so much about him and about herself, and this was just the latest adventure, she told herself. From the first time he'd opened up about the full spectrum of his sexual interests she had been fascinated. She wanted to know about his limited experiences out of a strange curiosity that she could not name, and he had told her everything. Then, as he sensed her interest, they had gradually incorporated some elements into their bedroom fantasies. Still, acting on them had always been a bridge too far. Until now.

She didn't understand why it turned her on so much. In contrast, the idea of him with another woman almost made her retch. Was there something wrong with her? Was she a bad wife? She often wondered if she was mad to encourage him, to undermine their marriage and risk everything. He was careful not to burden her, and had assured her time and time again that he could live without, that she made him perfectly happy. But she wanted to give him this, not out of guilt, not out of fear of losing him, but out of love.

She also knew it would never have happened if they did not both get a kick out of it. Just the fevered anticipation in the previous weeks had led to a lot of crazy sex and tearful declarations of love. Paradoxically, letting him go and then pulling him back, as if tethered on an invisible string, only proved her hold over him. And she was certain that she could end this at any moment and he would never mention it again.

But now the die had been cast, and there was no way to reverse it. She already knew what had happened in Seattle. He had called her afterwards as planned and told her about it, how much he'd enjoyed it, and it led to the hottest phone sex ever. And still she was apprehensive to see him again in person, to know if anything had changed between them, irrevocably, forever. Dark thoughts crowded her brain. Would he not want her anymore, and leave her for a man? This man? And move to Seattle? Well, it would be her own fault.

Finally she heard a key in the lock. She froze, and then sprinted to the hallway, where Jake was just coming in and closing the front door. He dropped his luggage on the floor and caught her in his arms as she threw herself at him.

"Ames!" One word told her everything. He kissed her hungrily and she responded likewise, and soon they were locked in a tight embrace, touching and grasping each other everywhere. Her back hit the wall and he crowded against her, one hand braced against the wall while he pulled her closer with the other and kissed her as if he had been starving for it.

They rutted against the wall, kissing frantically, and she could feel how quickly he was hard for her. "Bed," she gasped, and he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom where they had super-emotional, marriage-affirming, plain vanilla missionary sex.

Lying close together afterwards, face to face, Amy's heart was set at ease. Everything was as it should be. But when she looked more closely at Jake she saw a restlessness in him. “I know that look,” she said, and he shied away from her gaze. “Tell me what you need,” she said, gently but firmly.

He turned to her with a look of vulnerability mixed with trust. “I need a really deep scene,” he said. “I need you to claim me.”

She nodded, understanding. “Now?” she asked.

“If that's ok with you.”

“Put on your collar and lay out what you want me to use,” she said, and got out of bed. While he rushed to comply she carefully put on her favorite outfit: tight pants, a fitted shirt and leather boots, all in black. She put up her hair in a tight bun and turned around.

He was kneeling naked by the bed, in the correct spot, with his hands behind his back. She slowly walked towards the side table and picked up what he had selected: her black riding crop. She stroked the thin whip and flexed it in her hands. Then she walked around him, inspecting his posture and correcting a fine point with the end of her crop.

She stopped in front of him and waited to heighten the anticipation, focusing on his breathing until it evened out and he sat perfectly still. Then she lifted his chin with the riding crop.

“You've been away from me.”

“Yes Mistress,” he replied.

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes Mistress,” he answered wholeheartedly.

“Did you follow my rules?” she asked.

“Yes Mistress. I followed all your rules perfectly, Mistress,” he added emphatically.

“Very good.” This was important. She continued, “But I think you need a little reminder of who you belong to.”

“Yes Mistress,” he agreed readily.

“You are mine, and mine alone.”

“I am yours, and yours alone, Mistress.”

She smiled. It was music to her ears. "Get on the bed, hands and knees."

He eagerly complied. She walked up to him and prodded him lightly with the riding crop to adjust his pose to her liking. When she was satisfied she took a step back and admired her work. "You want this, don't you?"

"Yes Mistress."

"You want me to hit you."

"Yes, please, Mistress."

She raised the crop and let it fall on his ass. He shook, and swallowed a moan. She saw the mixture of pleasure and pain on his face as he leaned back into position. She gave him another one, and more while he panted and moaned softly. She knew he needed this to stop the constant rat race in his mind, to focus him on one thing only.

"You love this, don't you?" she asked, hitting him hard.

"Yes Mistress," he moaned.

She nodded. "You're such a pain slut."

"Yes Mistress," he agreed, straining himself for another blow.

His ass turned a lovely shade of pink. She carefully watched his face while she continued her work, and saw the moment when pleasure turned into endurance. He did not ask for her to stop however, but braved the pain and held still. He became tense, and she watched the struggle on his face. She could read him like a book, and it was beautiful. It sometimes scared her how much he could take, and how far he would go for her. She marvelled at the faith he put in her hands. Even though she trusted him to safeword she felt the full weight of responsibility on her shoulders.

The tears came, slow at first and then flowing free, but still he did not relent. Her arm was getting sore from the whipping, but she was far from done. She needed to bring him closer to the edge. Finally she heard him softly whimper 'please' through choked tears.

"Please WHAT?"

"Please, Mistress, I'm sorry, Mistress, please stop, Mistress," he pleaded as she continued her blows. 

"Just for that you'll get some extra."

"I'm sorry, Mistress, please, Mistress!"

She briefly increased her force and pace as he continued to plead for mercy. Then she stopped. 

He was shaking as he breathed in a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mistress. Please, Mistress," he whimpered.

She took a step back to watch him. She had him just where she wanted him; a begging, sobbing mess. She nodded to herself. This was where the real submission started.

She stood in front of him, lifted his chin and looked into his grateful teary eyes.

"I think you can take some more," she said slowly and deliberately.

She watched the shock on his face as the realization dawned, and then the struggle unfolded. She waited for him to safeword, but she already knew he wouldn't. Not tonight. Instead he braced himself and breathed 'Yes Mistress' to her, like a desperate prayer.

She took her position and waited, then gave him a good hard blow. His visible pain was so real that it hurt her, but she knew he needed this. "Well done," she said, and watched a peaceful glow come over his face. He was almost there. "You'll take what I give you," she continued. 

"Yes Mistress," he replied fervently and she watched him fall deeper to the right place as she struck another blow.

"Good boy," she praised. She struck another two, both followed by the well-earned praise that he craved so much. She understood his need for affirmation, how it briefly filled a hole in his heart so deep and wide it could not be mended, although she would never give up trying.

"You've done so well." She stood before him, gently holding his cheek in her hand. He leaned into her touch and looked up at her through tear-stained eyes in open adoration. "Do you want to give me another one?" she asked, and his beautiful 'Yes Mistress,' without hesitation, was pure perfection.

"This is the last one," she announced, and on his face she saw instant relief, mixed with fear for an extra hard blow. She held nothing back and gave him everything she had left, before he collapsed on the bed, shaking and crying.

She sat down next to him. "Shhhh, it's alright," she comforted him, stroking his back. He needed her touch so much right now. "You did so well. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Mistress," he managed through choked sobs as she calmed him down. She took some cream from the nightstand and rubbed it into his abused backside as he smothered hisses and moans into a pillow. Finally his breathing slowed down. But they were not done yet. "Color?" she checked.

"Green," he replied, as if entranced. "Green, Mistress."

She rubbed his ass cheeks again and then pulled them apart. She rubbed her finger between them and he shivered. "So you let a big man fuck you in a cheap hotel room," she stated.

"Yes Mistress."

She dragged her nail across his sensitive hole and he flinched. "And did you enjoy it when he fucked you into the mattress like a little slut?"

"Yes Mistress," he moaned.

"I'm not surprised," she stated. "You're going to tell me the whole story some time, but not now. I've done all the work until now," she said, slapping the riding crop in her hand, "it's time you made yourself useful."

He looked at her expectantly and not a little apprehensive.

"Can you get up?" she asked, with genuine concern. He tried to move but flinched in pain, and bowed his head in frustration, tears in his eyes. "Just a few seconds, please, Mistress," he begged. She looked at his sore backside. She had really done a number on him. She knew he wanted her to stay by his side, comforting him with her touch, but she was not going to make this easy on him. She got up and walked towards the large armchair in the corner. "Come to me when you're ready," she instructed, and sat down, crossing her legs. 

She idly stroked her riding crop as she watched the scene unfold. He looked at her with raw longing as he struggled but slowly got up from the bed and moved towards her, wincing with every step. He fought against the pain and fatigue with his natural stubbornness and above all his desperate need to be close to her. She pulled him into her circle with silent encouragement until he kneeled at her feet in front of the chair.

She lifted his chin with her riding crop. "Well done," she said approvingly.

He drew a shaky breath. "Thank you, Mistress."

She lowered the crop and tapped her boot with it. He leaned down and fervently kissed her feet. He loved those boots, and took good care of them. She let him rub his face and hands against the soft leather until she tapped her boot again.

"Take them off," she ordered, and he carefully removed her boots and placed them next to her chair. She lowered her pants and let him finish removing them, folding them up and putting them on the little table next to her chair. She looked down at the folded pants. They were not quite perfect to her eyes and she would normally make him repeat the process, but tonight she let it slide. There was no 'good job' however, and the disappointment in his eyes was punishment enough. She pointed her stockinged toe at him and told him to continue, and he was more than eager to comply in exactly the right way to make it up to her, kissing and caressing every inch of skin he uncovered as he lowered down her stockings.

When they had both been satisfactorily removed he sat back into the correct position, and she slowly opened her legs, her eyes on his face. Her panties were soaking wet, and while he tried to stay very still she could see how it affected him. Sometimes she would leave it at this, and would touch herself with her fingers or her wand while he waited and watched helplessly as she took her pleasure. That was what it meant to serve a harsh mistress. But they both knew tonight she would give him what he craved, to let him prove his devotion to her. She took off her panties and tossed them aside, after briefly tempting him with the trophy. He stayed perfectly still for her though, patiently waiting for the greater prize.

"Make me come with your mouth," she ordered at last.

"Yes Mistress," he sighed gratefully, and bent to his task, hands behind his back.

She moaned as his tongue hit her core and he eagerly lapped up her juices. She leaned back in the chair and let her pleasure run free, knowing how much he strained to hear the sound. She pushed his head deeper into her cunt, just as he liked. She rubbed his hair and played with the buckle on the back of his collar as he licked and sucked until she was panting and moaning loudly. He pushed his tongue into her cunt and licked her clit with focused determination. She didn't try to stop him or slow him down, but held nothing back and let her orgasm wash over her quickly and forcefully. He licked her through the aftershocks, and she knew he would continue forever until he had fully satisfied her with pleasure after pleasure.

"Enough," she said however, pulling his head back. He resumed his upright position and fought the urge to lick his lips clean.

She nodded contently. "You've pleased me."

"Thank you, Mistress," he breathed. She could see how hard he was, and how much it cost him to ignore it as he held his hands behind his back. It was a beautiful sight. Although it was very tempting she would not make him wait long this time.

"Touch yourself, and tell me you're mine," she ordered. 

"I am yours, Mistress," he professed as he looked up at her, and slowly moved his hands, almost disbelieving, to his cock. She nodded and he touched himself, briefly closing his eyes before gazing back up at her. "I belong to you," he continued, stroking himself. He bit his lip. "I want to be yours," he said reverently. "I need to be yours so much. I want to please you, Mistress, I want to make you happy. I will do anything for you, Mistress," he said fervently. She listened to his effusions with rapt attention until she saw a familiar look in his eyes.

"Stop," she ordered. She knew he was close. 

"Yes Mistress." He reluctantly removed his hands and folded them behind his back. She watched him calm down before she told him to continue, after which he gratefully resumed his professions of fealty.

And so it went, twice more; she brought him to the edge only to hold him back at the last moment, until the want in his eyes was replaced by glassy-eyed acceptance.

"I want to follow your orders," he said ardently, desperately. "I want to please you, Mistress. I live to serve you. I want to be good for you. I want to obey you, Mistress."

Her heart soared. She was in awe at the depths of his devotion. Is this the greatest power, she wondered, to enslave another human through pure love? She marvelled at the priceless gift he offered her, and became even more determined to be worthy of it.

When he was very close again she told him to stop, and he readily obeyed. She looked deep into his eyes. Slowly, savouring every word, she said, "You are mine, and mine alone."

"I am yours, and yours alone, Mistress," he replied with perfect devotion.

"Continue," she said.

She watched the panic grow in his face. He was still so close. His desire to obey fought with his fear of coming without permission. He gave her a desperate, pleading look to no avail, and then swallowed hard. "Yes Mistress."

She bored down into his eyes as he slowly moved his hand back to stroke his cock, face scrunched up in a desperate struggle to restrain himself, his whole body taut with unbearable tension. She watched the first spasms, saw his body begin to overtake as she said "Come for me," and he cried out and came hard.

She took a deep breath and looked down at his spent, worn-out body painted with come. Then she stood up from her chair and wordlessly offered him a hand. She pulled him up and held him close as they both came back to earth. There they stood in a tight embrace for a long time, lost in the moment to everything except each other. Finally he pulled back, looked at her and smiled.

Her heart melted. "Is this what you needed?" she asked.

"It was everything I needed," her replied earnestly.

She smiled and mussed his hair. "I love you so much."

He kissed her softly. "I love you to the moon and back." Then Jake took off his collar to end the scene. "So how did Rosie's dance recital go?"


End file.
